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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085134">An Alternate Ending</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redtiger7736/pseuds/Redtiger7736'>Redtiger7736</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Interview with a Murderer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Dates, First Kiss, M/M, Self-Worth Issues, Sort Of, Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:47:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redtiger7736/pseuds/Redtiger7736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if things didn't go as Kister planned when he got out of prison? What if Jonathan was keeping closer tabs on him than he expected?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan April &amp; Kister | Kister the Slaughterer, Jonathan April/Kister | Kister the Slaughterer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Alternate Ending</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Basically: I saw the ending and was *constantly* questioning why Jonathan wasn't there to pick Kister up. I could have sworn that was what was going to happen, but evidently not! Enjoy my gay wanderings.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A chill bit through his clothes, warm as they might be. Winter in New York was always cold, filled with frost and snow, ice that slicked the roads. As Kister stepped out, beyond the oppressive walls of the prison, he welcomed the chill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was alone, as he expected. The case of Kister the Slaughter had ended long ago, and media interest had flagged. He had no family or friends to speak of, so there was no one there to pick him up. He had declined to call a cab before he left as well, leaving him well and truly alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a wistful sigh, Kister turned and started walking, tucking his hands into his pockets to preserve some bit of warmth. A distantly recalled tune stumbled from his lips, half-remembered lyrics swimming up from his memories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those young days,” Kister began softly, “I loved… and loved…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prison wasn’t even out of sight before a car drove by him. That in itself wouldn’t be strange--he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>walking on a road after all--but the fact that the car stopped, turned around, and drove up </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> him was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a sleek black car with tinted windows, clearly not a cab. The way it pulled to a stop in front of him--blocking his direct path--set him on edge. He couldn’t see the driver, nor if there were any passengers. Was someone upset about his case for some reason? Was he about to get his ass kicked? Kister tensed, keeping a calm look on his face even as he prepared for a fight. It probably wasn’t a good thing to get in a fight right outside the prison, but he wouldn’t have a choice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment, the window rolled down. Kister froze. Stared. The man smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to get in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Jonathan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonathan smiled brighter, cheeks flushed from the cold. Kister couldn’t believe his eyes, why was Jonathan here? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, get in! It’s too cold to be walking around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Kister moved, ducking into the seat next to Jonathan. As the driver pulled out again, Kister rolled up the window, unwinding his scarf with his other hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-what are you doing here?” Kister finally asked, still staring at Jonathan in shock. He had filled out some since they last saw each other. He looked… brighter. Less tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came to pick you up, but I guess I got the time wrong,” Jonathan said, “Robert lent me his driver for the day at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… came to pick me up? Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I figured you wouldn’t have a ride,” Jonathan explained, a blush appearing on his cheeks, “And… Well, it’s been a while since we’ve actually seen each other. I didn’t want you to be alone now that you’re finally free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister’s mind was blank. After everything, he couldn’t really believe it. He had wanted this for a long time, of course, had waited for the day when he could see Jonathan as Kister, without his mask in place. Somehow, along the way, he had lost that hope. The want was still there, but the hope was gone. Who was he to ask Jonathan to stay by the man who had brought such violence and tragedy into his life?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister relaxed back into the seat, an easy smile falling onto his face. He couldn’t take his eyes from Jonathan, soaking in the brightness of him. He was wearing the same red jacket he had during their “alliance”, a matching burgundy scarf tucked away in his bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Kister finally said, tearing his eyes away to look at the passing countryside, “For picking me up, I mean. I… wasn’t expecting you to come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you before, you don’t have to be alone in this anymore,” Jonathan said softly, “I meant it. I really did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister wasn’t sure if he believed him, but he wanted to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride back to the city. Kister spent most of the time simply staring out the window, enjoying the scenery he hadn’t seen in so long. Eventually, the countryside slowly shifted back into buildings, first residential and then the more crowded cityscape of New York. Kister still wasn’t sure where he was going to go now, most of New York would probably still distrust his existence. Even with the case being over, few people were willing to hire or house a convicted murderer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S-so, uh, Kister?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister turned, offering Jonathan a warm smile. He looked strangely nervous, his cheeks tinted red in a blush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm? What is it? You have something to ask me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yeah. I… Would you like to have lunch? There’s this cafe I frequented while I was a student, they have a pretty good menu.” Jonathan smiled at the look on Kister’s face. “I figured it may be a nice way to catch up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jonathan April, are you asking me on a date?” Kister leaned towards him, smile turning to something sly as Jonathan’s face flushed even more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no,” Jonathan denied, ducking his head and chewing his lips. Kister didn’t move, watching Jonathan fondly. They had done this song and dance before, when Kister was still acting the part of the serial killer, but it was much more fun now. Jonathan was nervous, but not scared; it suited him much better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Jonathan glanced up, blue eyes hopeful and unsure all at once. “Well… Maybe? Yeah, I guess I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In that case, yes. Let’s get lunch,” Kister said with a grin, brushing his hand along Jonathan’s cheek. His skin was smooth and warm, and the feeling of Jonathan leaning into his touch sent a thrill up his arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He so much preferred this. Them, without the act between them. It was all he had hoped for. He liked seeing Jonathan’s smile, unmarred by mistrust or fear. As he intertwined their hands, Kister felt some long-ignored spurt of happiness well up inside him once more. There was something so soothing about such a trivial gesture after so long without it. He could only relish in the warmth of the gentle contact as Jonathan leaned forward and spoke to the driver, directing them towards whatever cafe they were going to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take them long to arrive at their destination, traffic being fairly low with winter break going on. It was a small building, built of repurposed bricks and faded steel plating. The cheerily painted sign above the doorway welcomed them to “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Manster’s Cafe</span>
  </em>
  <span>” in black-rimmed lettering. Jonathan thanked the driver briefly, then led Kister inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The indoors was welcoming, the air warm and ladened with the sweet scent of baked goods. Forest green booth seats lined the walls opposite them while plush chairs ringed a faux fireplace. There were a few tables scattered about the rest of the room, faded red-plaid table cloths thrown neatly over their tops. Other than a lone student in the corner surrounded by books, the cafe was empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking Kister’s hand, Jonathan led him up towards the counter, past a display of delectable treats. Before Jonathan could even draw breath to call out, someone appeared, a broad grin on their face. They were dressed in a neat green button-up with sleeves pushed up to their elbows, their long dreadlocks pulled back and into a bun. Their nametag read “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dae</span>
  </em>
  <span>” in the same cheerful font as the signage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jonathan!” Dae leaned across the counter to poke at Jonathan’s cheek, an action Jonathan expertly dodged. “I haven’t seen you around here in quite a while, I was beginning to think you had abandoned your favorite bakery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who says you’re my favorite bakery,” Jonathan huffed with a pout, “Things have been a little busy, I haven’t had much time to come over here! Besides, you’re plenty busy with students around here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Dae sighed, turning their gaze to Kister, “And who is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was because Kister was still riding the high of going on a date with Jonathan that made him speak freely. There was no logical reason for him to introduce himself with his first name, but…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Kister.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment too late, Kister’s brain caught up with him, and his smile fell to a more cautious look. Beside him, Jonathan tensed, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Dae, for their part, looked startled for a moment, then squinted, they turned to Jonathan with a raised brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you were more involved with him than you said,” Dae huffed, “All that secretive writing you did, I knew you were up to something! You aren’t as sneaky as you think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhhh,” Jonathan began, looking more and more confused by the second, “I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have guessed you would end up here at some point,” Dae’s expression gave way to a genuine grin, and they turned back to Kister, offering him their hand. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Kister. I’m Dae!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking away his confusion, Kister tentatively accepted Dae’s hand, shaking it clumsily. After a moment, Dae dropped the grip and relaxed, seemingly content with the interaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I assume you aren’t here just to talk to me,” Dae said at last, “What can I get you two? It’s on the house, in celebration of Jonathan finally getting his ass in gear and asking someone out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonathan let out a nervous laugh, cheeks tinted red even as he squeezed Kister’s hand. Kister couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed over his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made their orders--hot chocolate, a slice of layered cake for Kister, and a strawberry tart for Jonathan--and made their way to the plush chairs around the faux fireplace. Kister pulled two closer together, tossing his bag next to the one on the right before settling into it. Jonathan sat next to him, leaning back with a content smile. They sat in a comfortable silence until Dae appeared carrying a tray with their food, which they set carefully on the small side tables attached to the chairs before disappearing back to the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw your reporting,” Kister murmured, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, “It was quite well written.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had Robben’s help,” Jonathan hedged, though he smiled with pride, “It was… quite the story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was, wasn’t it?” Kister hummed, mostly to himself, mind wandering back to that time. He had thought back over those weeks so often while in prison, debating if he could have done anything differently. He knew it was pointless to torture himself so much over something he couldn’t change now, but it seemed to be his pattern at this point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop that.” Kister jumped at Jonathan’s words and gentle kick to his ankle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm? Stop what?” Kister jerked back to reality, tilting his head curiously at Jonathan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Going in your head like that,” Jonathan replied, “It won’t do you any good to dwell on the past.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might do you some good though.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister wasn’t sure where his verbal filter had gone, but it certainly wasn’t with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He saw the way Jonathan tensed, his gaze falling to his lap. It was the truth, it shouldn’t sting either of them as much as it did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jonathan… I know I asked for this, when you first interviewed me on your own, but now? I can’t just… leave it all behind. It’s going to follow me, for better or worse. I don’t want to drag you into it again, you deserve better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t you listen to me before? I meant it when I said you don’t have to go through things alone anymore,” Jonathan said, a hint of anger in his voice, “That includes </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Punctuating his statement with a gesture around the room, Jonathan fixed Kister with a stare, expression creasing into one of concern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Kister hesitated, trying to pick words from his blank mind, “I guess… I struggle to understand why. After everything I put you through… why are you so determined to stick by a murderer’s side?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kister…” Jonathan said softly, reaching towards him tentatively, “I haven’t thought of you as a murderer in a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whether you think of me that way or not, it’s what I am,” Kister said calmly, turning his gaze to his cup, “You of all people should know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long moment of silence fell over them. Kister stared at his cup. Jonathan stared at Kister. Dae kept conspicuously out of sight. Kister wasn’t sure what he was even trying to do now. He was ruining their kinda-date at the very least, and their… what, friendship? They hadn’t spoken properly in so long, and their relationship before that was far from friendship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kister?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At Jonathan’s questioning tone, Kister finally looked up to meet his gaze. It was gentler than he was expecting, an earnest smile on Jonathan’s lips as he looked right at Kister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgave you long ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words punched the breath from Kister’s chest. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Jonathan’s, even as his vision blurred. Why, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>was that what made him fall apart? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When everything finally came to light, I forgave you,” Jonathan continued, taking one of Kister’s shaking hands in his, “Maybe even before that. You were in as an impossible situation as I was. There were no good choices to be made, and you did what you could. I don’t blame you for that, and I don’t blame you for trying to protect me, even in such a roundabout way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister furiously rubbed his eyes before the tears could really start flowing. The gentle rhythmic movement of Jonathan’s thumb over his hand was all he could focus on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you haven’t quite forgiven yourself yet,” Jonathan murmured, “But I hope, one day, you will. I’d like to be there for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a fool,” Kister replied half-heartedly, leaning forward to drape himself over the arms of the chairs and into Jonathan’s lap. “You’re lucky you’re a cute one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The embarrassed laugh that came from above him was music to Kister’s ears. He gave himself a scant moment to enjoy the gentle motion of Jonathan combing through his hair, then pushed himself upright. Shifting back into his own seat, Kister picked at his abandoned food, taking a small bite of the cake--it was delicious, which felt wrong at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know how I will ever forgive myself,” Kister whispered, pausing to sip his hot chocolate and delay speaking a moment longer, “There is so much that is just… unforgivable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you try at least?” Jonathan asked, gaze still fixed on him. Kister paused, nodding slowly as he took a bite of the cake. He would try, for Jonathan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all I can ask then,” Jonathan said softly, relaxing back into his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lapsed into silence once again, not quite so easy but perhaps more peaceful. Like the moment after a storm, when the ground is still littered with debris but the skies are no longer pouring. Kister finished his cake, bite by bite, and Jonathan his muffin. Somewhere along the way, their hands found each other again, and they lay intertwined on the arms of the chairs. Kister was just… staring. At the fireplace, the lone student panicking in the corner, the glimpses of Dae behind the counter. He tried to keep his gaze from Jonathan, but it inevitably wandered back to him. The way his straw blond hair caught brilliant white highlights in the sunlight. The unending depth of his blue eyes. The serene calmness on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inevitably, their eyes met again, and Kister found himself mirroring Jonathan’s smile. He never thought he would feel so at peace, but right now? It was strange to feel so calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I can ask, what are you planning on doing now?” Jonathan looked honestly curious as he asked, and Kister turned his mind back to his half-baked plans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had hoped to return to my roots,” Kister said, “Take up acting again. I’d have to give it some time I think, but I should be able to find a theater that would take me. Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll finally get to see you on stage then,” Jonathan said with a cheerful laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d love that.” Never before had Kister answered something so honestly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation took a lighter turn after that, drifting from topic to topic. They spoke briefly of what had happened immediately after Kister was returned to prison, then shifted to Jonathan’s plans as a reporter. They discussed their interests and hobbies as they never got to before. Jonathan spoke of his friendship with Jerome--who Kister only faintly remembered--and Kister briefly described his time before Cicero. Eventually, when their drinks were long gone and snow was falling heavier in the streets, they gathered their things and left, thanking Dae as they did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” Jonathan pulled Kister to the side of the doorway as they left, still under the awning and away from the light layer of snow falling on the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s a house for released inmates I can stay at,” Kister answered, winding his scarf around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Listen, I have some writing for a report I need to do tomorrow, but we should meet up again sometime,” Jonathan said with a soft smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soon,” Kister replied, “Keep in contact, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soon,” Jonathan agreed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister wasn’t quite sure who started it, but he could feel the warmth of Jonathan’s lips on his, a stark contrast against the cold of the air. It was infinitely better than their first, rushed kiss, hidden away in the alley, behind dark clothes and deadly masks. Then, it was brief, chaste, and decidedly one-sided. Now, it was lingering and gentle, welcomed by both of them. Kister could taste the hint of chocolate on Jonathan’s lips, probably mirrored on his own, and his hand found purchase on the side of Jonathan’s neck. Jonathan’s hands were fisted in his sweater, curled into the threads as if he could hold Kister there forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All too soon, they broke apart, both with hints of a blush and quick breathes. Jonathan smiled warmly at him, an expression Kister returned in kind. Finally, stepping away, Jonathan settled himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… have a good night!” Jonathan grinned, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. Kister couldn’t help but smile in return, cocking his head just slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You as well,” Kister called as Jonathan moved towards the curb, hailing a passing cab, “Text me when you get home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright!” Jonathan ducked into the cab, waving a final goodbye as they drove away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kister stood under the awning and watched for a long moment, eyes following the yellow car until it turned out of sight. With a sigh, he stepped out onto the sidewalk, shoes crunching the thin layer of snow under his feet. It wasn’t too far to his temporary home, and he felt oddly warm despite the snow in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those young days, I loved and loved…” Kister sang under his breath, “Those times, oh, they shall never return again~”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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